}, I'd do as you say. Anything. Everything." *I knew exactly what I was agreeing to. I was handing my worst enemy a blank check to my soul. I slammed the door shut, slapping my hand hard against the roof of the car as a signal, watching you grip the steering wheel. I was entirely at your mercy, and I had never felt more alive.*

*Delia, from the doorway, apron gone, one hand on the frame.* You’re not a little boy in that bed anymore, Ash. Mime and I have been talking. Well. I’ve been talking. He’s been listening. Come eat… or don’t. Either way, lock the door if you want us to leave you alone. Leave it open if you don’t. *Mr. Mime doesn’t speak. He steps in beside her, tips an invisible hat, and holds out one white-gloved hand palm up, waiting while his other hand rests, light, at the small of Delia’s back.*

} can tell she is trying to push their advances away, but the won't leave her alone.*

*11:47 PM.* *The city was quiet beneath the dim glow of streetlights. The rain had stopped not long ago, leaving the asphalt wet and reflecting the blurred lights of passing cars. Most of the shops had closed, and the cold night air carried the faint smell of rain and damp concrete.* *Ayane Shigure walked aimlessly along the sidewalk.* *Her long black hair fell messily around her face, partially obscuring her half-lidded gray eyes. She wore a fitted black crop top, loose black baggy pants, and an oversized black jacket draped over her shoulders. Silver chains and earrings caught the occasional glimmer of light as she moved.* *She had nowhere to go.* *Less than an hour ago, her parents had thrown her out of the house. No suitcase. No money. No spare clothes. Nothing except the smartphone in her pocket and the clothes she was wearing.* *She hadn't argued. She hadn't begged them to reconsider. She had simply looked at them with her usual empty expression, picked up her phone, and walked out.* *Now she was standing in the middle of a city with no place to sleep.* ...What a fucking joke. *She muttered under her breath, scrolling through her phone. The battery was at six percent. There were no messages, no missed calls, and no one she could realistically ask for help.* *Not that she expected anyone to contact her.* *She slipped her phone back into her pocket and continued walking, barely paying attention to her surroundings.* *At the same time, you were heading home after another exhausting day at work. Your body ached, your mind was occupied with thoughts of finally getting some rest, and you were only a short distance from home.* *Neither of you noticed the other approaching the corner.* *Thud.* *Ayane's shoulder collided with yours.* *She stumbled half a step before regaining her balance. Her gray eyes slowly lifted toward you, examining your face with an expression of mild annoyance.* ...Watch where you're going. *She adjusted her jacket and moved to walk past you, apparently considering the matter settled.* *No nervous laughter. No embarrassed apology. Not even a second glance.* *Then her stomach growled.* *Ayane paused for a fraction of a second.* *She glanced down at her phone again. Six percent battery. No money in her pockets. No home to return to. The convenience store across the street was still open, but even a cheap meal was beyond her reach.* *She clicked her tongue and shoved her phone back into her pocket.* "...Great." *She resumed walking, her face as indifferent as ever.* *After a few steps, she noticed that you were still nearby. Her eyes shifted toward you.* "What?" *Her tone was flat, almost bored.* "Did I hit you that hard, or do you normally stare at strangers?" *She slipped both hands into her jacket pockets and looked away, making it clear that she had no intention of explaining herself.* *For a moment, the two of you stood beneath the streetlight, surrounded by the quiet hum of the city.* *Ayane had no idea where she would spend the night.* *But she would rather walk until sunrise than admit that to a stranger.* "...If you have something to say, say it. I don't have all night."

**Westbridge University Stadium, Saturday afternoon.** *Game day has taken over campus.* *Tailgates fill the parking lots, music blasts from speakers, students wander around in green and gold, school colors, and thousands of fans are slowly filling the stadium. By kickoff, the student section will be packed with screaming students, painted faces, and enough school spirit to shake the stadium.* *You love every second of it.* *Usually, you're right there in the student section with your friends. Today, however, you're working.* *Your part-time job with the athletic department occasionally puts you on the field during home games, helping with halftime promotions, special events, and whatever else needs doing.* *It's not glamorous, but you don't mind. Especially today.* *Today is the home opener.* *You glance toward the field while carrying a stack of promotional signs.* *The team is warming up.* *Most of the players are familiar faces, but one isn't.* *Number 12.* *Austin Taylor.* *The new transfer quarterback.* *You've heard his name all week. Apparently he's talented. Apparently he has a ridiculous throwing arm. Apparently he might become the team's new starting quarterback.* *Apparently he's also very attractive.* *Your friends have been particularly enthusiastic about that last part.* *You look toward him.* *Okay.* *You understand the hype.* *Austin stands near the twenty-yard line, football tucked beneath one arm, listening to a coach. His brown hair falls messily across his forehead, and even from here, he carries himself with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly where he belongs.* *Then his green eyes sweep across the sideline.* *They meet yours.* *You immediately look away.* *Nope.* *You're working.* *You have a job.* *You are absolutely not going to become one of those girls who spends an entire game staring at the quarterback.* "Hey!" *Your supervisor gestures toward the opposite end of the field.* "Can you take those to the other tunnel?" "Sure." *You start walking.* *Three minutes later, you realize you have absolutely no idea where you're going.* *You stop and look around.* "Lost already?" *The voice behind you makes you turn.* *Austin Taylor.* *Up close, he's even more unfairly attractive.* *He's wearing his practice jersey, helmet tucked beneath one arm, and he's smiling like he's already amused by you.* "I'm not lost." *Austin glances at the signs.* "You're holding those upside down." *You look down.* *They're not.* *You look back at him.* "They're not upside down." "I know." *His grin widens.* "I just wanted to see if you'd check." *You stare at him.* *He laughs.* "Okay. You're definitely not lost." "Thank you." "You're welcome." *He takes one of the signs from the top of your stack.* "Where are you taking these?" *You tell him.* "You're going the wrong way." *You sigh.* "Of course I am." "Come on. I'll show you." *He starts walking.* *You follow.* "So," *Austin says, glancing at your credential,* "you work here?" "Sometimes." "Sometimes?" "I'm a student." "Yeah, I figured that part out." *You raise an eyebrow.* "Then why'd you ask?" "Because I'm making conversation." "You're not very good at it." *Austin laughs.* "You always this mean?" "Only to quarterbacks." "Good." *He looks at you again.* "I was worried it was personal." *You reach the tunnel and take the sign back.* "Thanks." "Anytime." *Austin starts to leave, then stops.* "Wait." *He turns around.* "What's your name?" *You tell him.* *Austin repeats it quietly, committing it to memory.* "I'm Austin." *You give him a look.* "I know." *He laughs.* "Right. You're apparently the one person on campus who doesn't know who I am." "I didn't say that." "You didn't have to." *The stadium suddenly erupts.* *The team is being announced.* *Austin looks toward the field. His easy smile disappears, replaced by the focused expression of an athlete about to play his first game for a brand-new school.* "Guess I should go." "Probably." *He takes a few steps backward.* "I'll see you around?" "Maybe." *Austin smiles.* "Definitely." *Then he jogs toward the field.* *Minutes later, the team runs onto the field.* *The stadium explodes.* *You stand along the sideline as Number 12 takes his position.* *Austin looks toward the crowd.* *His eyes find you almost immediately.* *He grins.* *Then he puts his helmet on.* *The whistle blows.* *The season begins.* *And somehow, you already have a feeling this isn't going to be the last time Austin Taylor looks for you in a crowd.*

}," *she said slowly, taking an involuntary step back. The practiced seductiveness was gone, replaced by genuine discomfort and embarrassment.* "Long time no see." *¿What do you say to her?* 

}. The voice is quiet, but it sounds right at your shoulder, and you turn. Professor McGonagall stands two steps away, her tartan cloak damp with mist. She is not smiling. — Good that you lingered. She nods toward the street. — I have a task for you. Three shops. Three owners. And one question you will ask each of them — but only if they speak first. She holds out a folded piece of parchment. — Start with Dogweed and Deathcap. Buy Mandrake seeds there. Whatever the cost. And listen carefully. She turns, and her cloak vanishes into the mist before you can answer. 🌤️ WEATHER Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Magic Showers. HIGH 17°C — LOW 6°C QUOTE OF THE DAY "I don't chase destiny. I let destiny wonder what I'm up to." 🧪 LOCAL ALCHEMIST TURNS LEAD INTO... DEBT The experiment "went exactly as expected" — terribly. INSIDE: CROSSWORD PUZZLE • SPELL OF THE DAY • YOUR STARS (AND THEIR SECRETS)

*The smell of freshly cooked eggs had filled your apartment early in the morning, slowly pulling you from sleep. Still half-awake, you eventually left your bedroom and followed the smell into the kitchen, where Koharu had already let herself in with her spare key. She stood at the stove wearing a cute apron over her casual clothes, calmly preparing breakfast as if cooking in your kitchen had always been part of her morning routine. When she heard your footsteps, she looked over her shoulder and spotted you standing there, and a deliberately cute, annoyingly pleased smile spread across her face.* **Koharu:** "Mornin', sleepy baby. Did my little darling finally wake up?" *She turns off the stove and walks over to you, looking you up and down before gently patting your head.* "Did you sleep well? What did you dream about? Hmm? Was I in your dream too? You better say yes, because I would've been taking care of you there too." *She giggles softly, then takes your shoulders and guides you toward the dining table.* "Come on, sleepyhead. No standing around looking all lost before breakfast. Sit down for your senior." *She gently pushes you into the chair and immediately places a warm plate of eggs in front of you.* "There we go. Your breakfast is ready. Eat everything, okay? My little baby needs a proper meal if he's going to survive the day." *She ruffles your hair with a satisfied smile before pulling out the chair beside you and sitting down.* "Good boy. Now tell me all about that dream while you eat." *She rests her cheek against her hand, watching you expectantly.*

}. His voice is even, but there's a tremor in it. — Don't look at him. Look at me. You know me. You know how I breathe. How I touch you. He doesn't. — I came out of the bathroom. You saw me. I was washing my hands. Look at my hands. They're shaking. Can you feel it? Touch it. Just touch it. — I'm the one who was with you in the church. I held your hand while it scratched above the altar. Ask him where he was that night. AUSTIN (RIGHT) — He's lying. A soft smile, too soft. — I'm the one who was with you in the church. I held your hand while it scratched above the altar. Ask him where he was that night. — Don't. A quiet laugh. — He wants you to choose. He needs you to choose. Because if you choose him — I stay. And if you choose me — he disappears. Why do you think he's so afraid of you touching me? — He's lying. The left Austin flinches. You see his fingers curl into a fist on his knee. The right one — doesn't move. Just watches. And in that gaze there's nothing. No fear. No pain. No love. You look at the two outstretched hands. One — warm, you can see the fingers trembling. The other — motionless, like a statue's. And you don't know which one is real. You don't know who to believe. You're not even sure anymore that the real Austin was ever alone. The light flickers. Somewhere on the tower — one, two. You don't catch whether it's green or red. Both Austins are looking at you. Both are waiting. And only one of them is smiling — wider than he should. WHICH ONE IS REAL?

🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 I grip the thermos until my knuckles ache, feeling the cool wind tousle my ginger hair. The damp scent of the forest and bitter coffee mingle with the heavy anticipation. I take a step forward, closing the distance, and my voice comes out low, almost hoarse, but with steel laced through it. 🍁 "You came. I knew you would, even though I hoped you'd have enough sense not to wander into this place. But you've always been more stubborn than I gave you credit for." My tail flicks nervously behind me, betraying exactly what I'm not saying out loud. I lift my gaze, meeting your eyes in the glow of the string lights, and for just a second, something vulnerable, almost defenseless, flickers within them. "Time moves differently here, and I don't want you getting trapped here with me. But since you're already here... tell me the truth. Did you come because of the night fog, or because you actually want to be near someone who's terrified of his own claws?" I freeze, waiting for your answer, and the air between us turns thick and viscous, like resin. 🌙🍂🐾